


The Green Light Room

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [18]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 1985, Alternate Universe, HIV/AIDS, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Podfic & Podficced Works, it's brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: Ed woke up in pain. He reached for his glasses but only succeeded in knocking them off of the bedside table. He sighed through gritted teeth and felt for his bag. He'd memorized his pills based on feel and was able to locate his AZT-- which he was overdue for-- and his pain medication.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396144
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even going to pretend that I can write a better story than what Yen Tan and the rest of the film crew made with _1985._ If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching it before reading this. Especially if you are a fan of Cory Michael Smith's work.
> 
> I got the idea of writing this as an AU and couldn't get the bug outta my brain so... here it is. Be sure to grab some tissues and tell your loved ones you appreciate them.
> 
> I listened to the [1985 OST](http://1985thefilm.com) while I wrote this and it's worth listening to while reading. The title also comes from lyrics from _”Camera”_ by R.E.M.

“ _Hey, Andrew... Now, I want you to keep this tape as long as possible. I think you might need to listen to this again in the future. It might make more sense to you when you're older._

_You're gonna have some tough days. Days where you'll feel like everything sucks and you don't wanna get out of bed. Days where you're gonna feel like you just don't belong. Like your hopeless or stupid. Like you have to bend over backwards for everyone's approval in school or at a thankless job. Even at home._

_It took me a long time to realize it on my own but, I want you to know you're not the only one who feels the way that you do. Mom and Dad, they might not get it. A lot of your friends might not get it either. And some of them might say some pretty mean and awful things. Because they just don't get it. But I get it._

_And I know that you're gonna learn to be happy with who you are. And you may need to be in another place to be happy. And you know what? That's okay. That's why I left for Gotham. I even changed my name. Started over. It might seem like the hardest thing to do at first, but it might be the right thing for you too. And, in another time, at another place, you're gonna meet the right people. People that are just like you. People that are just like me. So hang in there, Andrew._

_Someone very important to me once said that even in darkness there is light. I will always regret that I wasn't home enough these past few years. I feel like I'm only really getting to know you this time around. And I'm proud that you're my brother. I'll always be with you.”_

* * *

It had been three years since Edward had seen his family.

His dad, grumpy about the hour-long delay of Ed's plane, was tossing his bags into the back of the truck. He never was very delicate with Ed's things. He wasn't the kindest man-- especially when Ed was a kid. He'd been sober five years and counting, though Ed was less inclined to forgive his father. He could be cordial with the man for the sake of the holiday. He certainly didn't want a repeat of Thanksgiving. He owed his mother that much and he wouldn't get another chance.

“Goodness gracious, you've gotten so _thin!”_ his mother exclaimed, lovingly patting him on the stomach.

Ed tried not to flinch from the pain and instead offered her a smile in return.

“He had a stomach flu,” his dad said, hauling Ed's upstairs towards his room.

“Are you alright now?” she asked.

“Right as rain,” Ed lied, “Um... Is Andrew around?”

“Andrew!” she called out, “Your brother's here.”

The boy peered around the corner at them. He was just as doe-eyed and mussy headed as Ed remembered. He was wearing one of Ed's old plaid shirts he'd left behind when he moved to Gotham. It made his little brother look even more like a miniature version of himself.

“Hey, Andrew,” Ed smiled, “You've gotten taller.”

The Nashton's weren't a particularly touchy-feely kind of family and Ed doubted much had changed since he moved up North. Still, that didn't stop him from extending his arms out towards the young teen. Andrew's eyes narrowed the moment he lifted his arms. He walked away without another word.

“Okie dokie then,” Ed frowned. He hadn't been home five minutes and he was already feeling defeated.

“He's just being shy,” his mother tried to soften the blow.

“It's fine,” Ed adjusted his glasses before putting on another fake smile.

Edward ventured upstairs towards his old bedroom. It was mostly as he'd left it-- ugly geometric wallpaper, shelves full of knick-knacks and posable figures. Andrew had pilfered through most of them but several remained where they had for years. Coated in layers of dust.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and listened to the box springs groan under his weight. The mattress wasn't as soft as the one back at his apartment but the downy comforter was nostalgic. It smelled of the lillac fabric softener his mother loved to use.

Everything seemed smaller. The window, especially. He was already missing the comfort of 805 Grundy and the green neon light he associated with home.

“ _So, this is where you grew up?”_ the voice asked.

Ed palmed at his eyes and braced himself for the wave of nausea that was about to hit him. The voices and hallucinations had gotten more vivid and more insistent over the years. Even more so now. The stress of the last couple of months and the six different funerals he'd attended had broken him.

Their deaths had hit differently than previous ones. Ed was no stranger to death given his job, the city he chose to live in, and the friends that he kept close. It wasn't uncommon to have friends and acquaintances drop like flies around him. But this was different. This wasn't bullets and knives and teeth.

“ _Nice view.”_

“Yeah. It is,” Ed finally opened his eyes and turned towards the apparition by the window.

Oswald looked as he remembered him. Ruddy cheeks and star-like freckles. Shiny black hair haphazardly tousled with his bangs styled into points. The vision was reminiscent of one of his earliest memories of the man.

He'd been shot in the shoulder by a rival criminal in a deal gone wrong. Edward, who had been in the wrong place at the right time, had scooped up the wounded bird and carried him back to his apartment. He loaned him some jeans and an over-sized sweater that Oswald had been loathed to return. He kept stuffing his nose into the plush knitted fabric and inhaling the scent of Ed's cologne. By the time Ed got it back, it smelled of tobacco and mustard. But, even still, Ed wore it every night until the scent wore off and Oswald would steal it again-- repeating the cycle.

His hallucination was sitting in the window sill with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The soft afternoon light filtered in through the curtain and made him look almost... real.

_"Are you going to tell them?”_

“How can I?” Ed frowned, “Mom only ever hears what she wants to hear. She never really listened to me growing up. She was supportive, but... I don't think she'd understand that nothing can be done.”

“ _She'd be there for you, though. Even if it made her sad, she'd be there. Just like my mother was for me. You don't have to be alone.”_

Ed's bottom lip quivered. The image of Gertrud sobbing at Oswald's bedside and the sound of her crying was an image that haunted him. He couldn't bear the thought of putting his own mother through that.

“ _Your dad barely spoke two words to you on the drive over here,”_ Oswald sighed, exhaling smoke.

“We had a fight last time I was here,” Ed chewed on his lip, “He was being hard on Andrew and I told him to lighten up. He didn't take too kindly to that.”

“ _Sounds delightful.”_

“Yeah... He'll probably just blame me for being sick or claim that I'm faking it. Everything was always my fault growing up. I don't see how this would be any different.”

“ _What about your brother?”_

“What about him?” Ed asked.

“ _Don't you think he deserves to know?”_

“Yes... but how do I tell him?” Ed looks at him, glossy-eyed, “He already hates me for leaving. How am I supposed to explain to him that I'm dying?”

* * *

Ed tried not to wince during the prayer. His parent's religion always rubbed him the wrong way. He never understood the logic of placing your future and well-being into the hands of some faceless, bigoted old man in the sky.

“I made all your favorites,” his mother smiled.

“Wow, this looks really delicious, Mom,” he told her.

His tastes had changed significantly since moving to Gotham, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. On most days, he just ate at the small Chinese restaurant on the bottom floor of his apartment building. The Chen family was always kind and accommodating, even if they thought he was a bit too eccentric. They weren't amused by his riddles but they at least remembered not to add onions to his orders.

He cooked more often after meeting Oswald. The man had strange tastes and hadn't developed much of a palate for nicer food, so Ed made sure to spoil him. He hadn't minded. Ed's mother, bless her, had taught him to cook and said that the quickest way into someone's heart was through their stomach. Which wasn't accurate, of course. The quickest way was by breaking the sternum. Still, illogical as it may be, it had worked.

“Still playing football, Andrew?” Ed asked, attempting to bridge the gap between them now that his brother had less opportunity to run away.

“He quit last year,” his dad spoke with a disappointed edge to his tone.

“I kinda sucked at it,” Andrew frowned, passing the chives.

“That's not true now. Coach Jennings said you have great potential.”

Ed grit his teeth. His father pressured him into sports when he was a kid too. Edward had always been more inclined to hide in the library or chemistry lab. His dad never understood his interests and often called him a freak when he would collect dried beetles and bones. Ed had hoped that presenting him with his degree and respectable job at the Gotham City Police Department would finally earn his respect, but he'd been disappointed. He was never entirely certain _what_ his father wanted from him. At this point, he didn't think even his father knew what he wanted.

“Andrew is the vice president of the drama club now,” his mother beamed with pride.

“Is that right?” Ed smiled.

“He was in _Arsenic and Old Lace_ recently.”

“I was the lead,” Andrew blushed.

“You were a _very_ convincing older man,” she said with a smile, “ _And_ he got the biggest applause.”

“He needs to speak up is what he needs to do,” his dad grumbled, stabbing at the meat on his plate, “He mumbled through most of his lines. I could barely understand him half the time.”

“Sorry I missed it, buddy,” Ed broke the awkward silence, “I'm sure you were brilliant. You wouldn't be cast as a lead otherwise.”

“Are you still working at the police department?” his mother asked.

“Yes... uh... yeah. I still work in forensics,” Ed slowly chewed his food.

“Uh huh... You've been at that a long time. Still like it?” his dad asked, eyebrow raised.

“I've been at the GCPD for three years now. I... still like it,” Ed absentmindedly piled more collard-greens onto his plate, “I was working a John Doe case recently. Fascinating cause of death. He died of blunt force craniocerebral trauma. His brain was completely turned to mush--”

“--Is this really appropriate dinner conversation?” his dad glared.

“Yeah, that's gross,” Andrew frowned.

“Well, I want to hear more about Eddie's work. You boys just need stronger stomachs,” his mother chided.

“No, it's alright, Mom,” Ed dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “You need to be desensitized to a lot of really gross stuff to do what I do.”

“So you've seen a lot of dead bodies?” Andrew asked, curiously.

“Yup,” Ed answered, “Gotham is ripe with them.”

“Your brother is awfully brave to be living in a place like that,” his mother praised him.

“It's not all bad,” Ed explained, “There are a lot of interesting people there.”

“Any roommates?” she asked.

“I can fill a room or just one heart. Others may have me but I cannot be shared. What am I?” the riddle rolled off his tongue. He stuffed a forkful of potatoes into his mouth to keep himself from saying anything more.

“Not the fucking riddles again,” his dad groaned.

“ _Dale,”_ his mother scolded, trying to diffuse the situation.

“What? He knows I hate those damn things,” he growled, “Do you _want_ me to start drinking again, Eddie? Because that's one way to make me pick up a bottle.”

“Dale, stop it.”

“Loneliness,” Andrew's voice perked up, “The answer. It's loneliness, right?”

“Correct,” Ed beamed at his brother's cleverness. No one in his family had ever bothered trying to solve his riddles.

“Don't you start,” Dale growled, angrily pointing his fork at his youngest son.

“I spoke to a young man over the phone once when you weren't at your apartment. Oswald? He sounded nice,” his mother changed the subject.

Ed forced himself to swallow, “Yes... He... uh... He's a friend.”

“Is he from Gotham?”

“Born and raised there. Yeah,” Ed's ears started ringing.

“Is he a freak just like the rest of the people in that God-forsaken city?” his dad asked with a sneer.

“Don't talk about Oswald that way,” Ed's grip on his silverware tightened.

“Boys, stop it,” his mother pleaded.

“Yeah, apologize to your mother,” his father demanded.

Ed turned to his mother who just shook her head. Her eyes communicated a silent apology for her husband's typical behavior. Edward nodded and then tried to enjoy the rest of his meal.

It was difficult not comparing his family to Oswald's. Gertrud and Eileen would have gotten along, most likely. They would have bonded over old Clark Gable films and homely antiques. They might have even exchanged recipes.

Ed hadn't gotten to spend much time with Oswald's father, but he left quite the impression. He hadn't known he had a son but, once Oswald's illness worsened, Gertrud reached out to him. He'd remarried but it was obvious that his heart remained tethered to Oswald's mother. Watching them hold and comfort one another through the loss was surreal and, much to Edward's surprise, they happily accepted him as their own. Gertrud let him cry long into the night, singing lullabies and running her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep.

Fish Mooney was a different sort of mother. She helped pull Oswald up through the criminal underbelly of Gotham and showed him the ropes. Once word got around that Edward was in a relationship with Mooney's umbrella boy and he'd been further ostracized, she took him in. She asked for loyalty in return and had him deliver the odd package here and there, but she treated him like a son.

She approached Oswald's death with the same ambivalence as she did anything. However, in private, she and Edward grieved. Unrestrained and usually with a few bottles of wine shared between them as they exchanged stories and celebrated the life that was taken from them so cruelly.

Captain Barnes reminded Ed a lot of his dad. They even looked similar-- Short, stocky build with a drill sergeant's discipline. He never appreciated the work Ed did and instead showered the officers on the front lines with praises and accolades. Ed only ever wanted the man's approval, but that had been too much to ask for.

The closest he'd ever come was through Detective James Gordon. They weren't friends necessarily-- especially after everyone found out about Oswald and him-- but he'd been kind. Even humored his riddles and quirks. He was even at the funeral.

“Andrew?” Ed carefully shook his brother's shoulder the following morning.

“What?” he groaned.

“Mom wants you up for breakfast. She made pancakes.”

The boy pouted before throwing the blanket over his head. Ed rolled his eyes. He took a moment to look around the room. If his bother was going to be stubborn, Ed would just have to solve the puzzle.

Andrew's room wasn't much different than his. Plastic dinosaurs lined the window sill. Plays and books on monologues lined the bookshelves. There was a corkboard over his desk littered with dozens of movie ticket stubs. _The Goonies_ and _Back to the Future_ appeared to be his favorites. He was using Ed's old space-themed bedspread. There were even planetary stickers hung above his bed. An old painting of a hot air balloon. All symbols that showed the boy craved some form of escape.

His eyes fell onto the cassette player on Andrew's bedside table. You can learn a lot about a person based on their taste in music, so he decided to take a peek at what was inside.

“Give it back,” Andrew glared.

“Sorry. Apologies,” Ed let go of the cassette player and watched as his brother tucked it under him.

“Hey... um...” Ed picked at his nailbed, “I owe you an apology. I know you were really bummed about not getting to visit me in Gotham. Something came up and I couldn't get any time off.”

His brother sighed but remained silent. After a moment, Ed's curiosity got the better of him, “Hey, what are you listening to nowadays?”

Andrew turned to face him now and he almost looked embarrassed. Slowly, he took the cassette from the player and handed it to Ed.

“Since when do you listen to Madonna?” Ed smiled, “I was at her last show at Gotham City Music Hall.”

“Wait... _you_ went to the Virgin Tour?” Andrew perked up, wide-eyed.

“Yeah! Oswald had some connections and got us front row tickets.”

“No way!” he smiled, “I had her other album too... but dad found it in my backpack and threw it away.”

“He does that,” Ed frowned.

“I also had a Bryan Adams poster but dad tore it off the wall,” he sighed, “There was a sermon about _secular music_ at church.”

“They'll always find ways to make that stuff up.”

“Yeah... well, people around here don't think it's made up.”

* * *

The church was just as he remembered it. It had the same dusty brown and yellow interior. The pews reeked of lemon cleaner, coffee, and a miasma of floral perfumes and shoe polish.

Mrs. Annette Johnson was still at the piano even after all these years. Playing off-key but with a pious enthusiasm that everyone seemed to embrace. Ed tried to contain how each wrong note made his teeth hurt.

“Some of y'all may have noticed a familiar face in the congregation this morning. Edward Nashton is visiting us from Gotham,” Pastor John smiled, “You've been in our prayers.”

“Uh... thank you,” Ed nodded, trying to curl in on himself.

“We hope you've been staying safe out there.”

“About as safe as someone can be working for the police department,” Ed forced a smiled and fidgeted. He hated being called out.

“We've all missed you playing the piano. Do you think you can play for us this morning?”

“Oh, well... I...” he stammered.

“Please, Eddie?” his mother begged, “I've missed it.”

“Alright, Mom. Just for you,” Ed sighed and then made his way over to the small piano in the corner.

It was the same one he learned to play on all those years ago. He'd begged his mother for lessons. His father only agreed to it once Edward told him he wanted to learn so he could play at church on Sundays. Most of the church songs were ingrained in his muscle memory, but his hands were still shaking. He thought he sounded sloppy but everyone applauded for him just the same. Their ears weren't exactly fine-tuned for quality.

He was struggling to catch up to the proper tempo when he felt a hand cover his own. He glanced beside him and saw Oswald, dressed in a suit with a cross tie, playing along with him. Even in death, Oswald was his rock.

He could feel the tiny little pebble in his pocket. They'd been drunk one day while walking along the shore of Gotham Bay. Edward rattled off facts about how Gentoo penguins gifted their chosen partner with pebbles as a sort of proposal. Oswald became enamored with the idea and ran down toward the water in search of the perfect one. It was slightly milky in color. A mix of blue and green. It reminded Edward of Oswald's eyes.

Edward had given him one with a slightly purple hue. Oswald had asked to be buried with it but, at the last minute, Edward couldn't bear to part with it. Every day he felt the weight of it in his pocket and regretted it. 

“That was beautiful,” his mother told him, dabbing the corners of her eye with a handkerchief.

“Thanks, Mom,” he smiled and then looked at his brother whose brow was pinched tightly, “What's wrong?”

“It just sounded kinda sad,” he shrugged.

“Is that a bad thing?” Ed shifted in the pew.

“No... just...” he looked up at his brother, “You seem sad.”

“...Yeah,” Ed sniffled and then busied himself with the hymnal in his lap.

* * *

Ed woke up in pain. He reached for his glasses but only succeeded in knocking them off of the bedside table. He sighed through gritted teeth and felt for his bag. He'd memorized his pills based on feel and was able to locate his AZT-- which he was overdue for-- and his pain medication.

He'd lost his health benefits shortly after Oswald's diagnosis, but Elijah had stepped in and helped pay for his medical needs. That in combination with his connections to the mob and the black market made him luckier than most. Though, It wouldn't change the outcome.

Ed managed to sip some of the water and swallowed the medication. His mouth was unbearably dry and the dehydration made his muscles ache. Before he realized it, he'd chugged the entire glass. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the interior of his apartment back in Gotham. The large windows. His eclectic furniture and oddities. The sirens on the street below and the rumble of the train tracks.

He felt something shift beside him. Groggy, he opened his eyes and smiled.

Oswald peaked out from under the covers. He leaned forward just as he did every time Ed woke up in the middle of the night and brushed his cheek with the tip of his nose. He leaned in further still and kissed him. For a moment, Edward was lost. But it all came crashing back down on him with a new wave of nausea and a relentless headache.

“You're not really here,” a tear streamed down his face.

_“Not physically. But I am here,”_ he tapped Edward's forehead, _“I'm flattered you remember all of these little details about me.”_

“How could I ever forget them?” he smiled, cradling his hallucination's face in the palm of his hand, “All your perfect imperfections. Every freckle. Every scar.”

_“You were the only one who ever appreciated them,”_ Oswald rolled over so that he was on top of Edward and leaned in to kiss him with more insistence.

This wasn't the first time he'd imagined Oswald like this. It made him feel a little guilty but it got him through his pain days. He dipped his fingers under the flannel fabric of Oswald's top and slowly pulled it up over his head. He marveled at Oswald's pale skin-- kissed by the green light from the neon sign. His eyes sparkled and glimmered like Gotham's skyline at night. He truly was the embodiment of this city. Cruel and beautiful. Like a stone fruit full of razors or a beautiful patch of wildflowers next to a chemical plant.

Ed often wondered what sort of men they could have evolved into. Oswald often talked about ruling Gotham's underworld just as Don Falcone had. Ed believed in him and Ed would have given up the world to be at his side the whole way through.

He hitched a breath when his hands glided across Oswald's ribs. Over the patch of fresh bruises and scabs.

“ _Shh... Stay with me, Ed,”_ the vision kissed his neck, _“Don't think about it.”_

But Ed couldn't help it. His photographic memory helped him remember all of the small, beautiful details but they also prevented him from ever forgetting the feeling of Oswald's frail form under his fingertips. His choking gasps as he struggled to breathe. The tragic loss of color on his face.

“I don't know what to do,” Ed cried, “I miss you so much."

“ _I know,”_ Oswald looked down at him, _“We'll see one another soon.”_

“Will you wait for me?”

“ _Of course I'll be waiting for you.”_

* * *

Christmas Day came sooner than Ed was prepared for. He'd wrapped all of the presents he'd brought the night before and had stuffed them under the tree. He had felt a pang in his chest when he realized the tree had been decorated before he'd arrived for his visit. Before he moved, it had always been a tradition of the Nashton's to decorate it on Christmas Eve. They would sit around and play board games to decide who got to place the star on the tree. Edward was usually the winner.

His mother always bought new ornaments for them each year. Edward's very first ornament was a small teddy bear holding a glossy green present. Ed remembered staring at it and loved how the lights of the tree reflected off of the green wrapping paper. He smiled as he looked at the ornaments he didn't recognize. Even though he hadn't been back for the holidays, his mother had still gotten him an ornament each time-- an airplane, a quirky little robot, and a snowman with an obnoxious green hat.

Edward pulled the trinket from his pocket. He kissed it before placing it onto the tree.

“You remembered.”

Ed jumped at the sound of his mother's voice. She chuckled.

“Yeah... I... I thought it was cute.”

“I didn't know you liked penguins,” she smiled as she admired the tiny little ornament.

“I love them,” Ed's chest tightened.

“I'll have to remember that,” she smiled, “Come on. Your brother is ready to open his presents.”

Edward waited patiently for his chance to give them his gifts-- having insisted on going last. A new copy of the King James Bible and the _Baptist Life and Thought_ burned in his lap. He tried not to scream.

Ed watched as his father unwrapped his gift and felt his stomach lurch when both his parents frowned. His father had always talked about wanting a sturdier leather jacket so, when Ed saw it in the window of a store in the Diamond District, he knew he had to buy it.

“It's a really soft light leather,” Ed explained, “So it's perfect for the winters you get here down in Waterbury.”

His dad stared in disbelief at the expensive jacket and exchanged a look with his wife. She smiled and then tore at the wrapping paper around her own gift.

Her eyes glimmered as she pulled out the lavender sweater, “This is cashmere.”

They didn't say anything else. Edward felt like he was melting under their questioning stares. He fidgeted with his glasses before hastily handing the smaller present over to his brother. Andrew tore away the wrapping paper and lit the room with his toothy smile.

Ed leaned forward, pointing at the box for the shiny new Walkman stereo, “So, this one actually records and it's a little bit smaller. It should be easier to carry around.”

“And it has Dolby!” he smiled, “You're the best.”

“You did not need to get him a new one, his old one worked just fine,” his dad shook his head.

“Dale, come on. It's Christmas.”

“And.. um... This is for all of you,” Ed pulled out an envelope and handed it to his mother.

She swallowed a breath as she looked at the contents, “These are... These are round-trip tickets to Honolulu.”

“Let me see that,” his dad snatched the tickets out of her hand.

“You've always wanted to go, Mom,” Ed explained, “And these are open tickets. So, you can use them anytime next year.”

“Wait, you're not going to go with us?” his mother questioned.

“Well... uh... I mean, of course I would love to. I just... I don't know if I can get off work.”

“How are you paying for this?” his dad looked at him.

“It was a special deal,” Ed explained, “Um... Oswald's employer, Fish Mooney, she had some connections and helped me get them.”

“But _all_ of these presents must have cost you a fortune, Eddie.”

“No, it's nothing,” Ed cleared his throat. They didn't need to know that Fish had paid for all of the gifts herself, “I um... I also have some news. To share with you. I've been trying to find the right time to tell you... but...”

“Well, spit it out,” his dad growled impatiently.

“I got a promotion,” he blurted out, “They're making me head of Toxicology at the GCPD.”

“That's fantastic, Eddie!” his mother was teary-eyed, “Aren't you proud of him, Dale?”

Ed looked over at his father who was still staring at the tickets and expensive jacket. His jaw was tight and his face was getting those small red patches that usually indicated he was about to snap at something. Instead of answering, he stood up and left the room.

“Dale, don't you _dare_ walk out on him again. You're always doing this to him. Dammit, it's _Christmas!”_

Their voices trailed off down the hall. Ed looked over to his brother and was grateful he'd been listening to his music instead of their bickering. Though, he didn't seem particularly thrilled by what he was listening to.

“Listen,” Andrew handed him the headphones, “It sucks, right?”

“It's jubilant,” Ed chuckled, “Speaking of which, I got you something else but I didn't want Mom and Dad to freak out.”

“A hundred dollars to Sound Warehouse?!” he squealed at the gift certificate.

“Shh, not so loud. Yeah. Now you can get whatever tapes you want. You just have to hide them well.”

“That's awesome. Thank you!”

“Merry Christmas, Andrew.”

His brother threw his arms around Edward and squeezed. Ed tried not to cry out from the pain and instead held him tighter.

“Will you take me this afternoon?”

“Sure thing,” Ed smiled, “Mom and Dad are probably gonna be at that for a while. Wanna go now?”

The records store had expanded their collection considerably since Edward's last visit. Growing up, he would spend hours in the aisles listening to samples and admiring the album art. He ran his fingers over a copy of _Purple Rain_. It had been Oswald's favorite ever since Edward had sung some of the songs to him. They listened to it so much the record had worn out.

“So, I think I'm gonna get these,” Andrew had an armful of cassette tapes.

“You don't have to spend your entire gift certificate today, buddy.”

“Yeah, but they had all the ones I wanted.”

“Bud, you are listening to _way_ too much Top 40. Alright, we gotta get you some different tapes. Do you know The Cure? Or REM?

“Who?”

“Oookay, let's go.”

They left the store with their haul. Their parents were still arguing downstairs so Ed felt it was an opportune time to teach Andrew how to sneak in through his bedroom window by climbing the tree next to the house. Ed had done it often growing up and figured it was his brotherly duty to pass the knowledge on.

Once inside, Ed showed him the various secret compartments he'd built around his childhood bedroom-- hidden shelves in his desk, hollowed books, and holes tucked away behind a broken piece of floor moulding.

“Use this knowledge wisely,” Ed told him, “Dad's not smart enough to find them on his own, but I wouldn't put it past him to tear your room up looking for them.”

“I never knew you were such a rebel.”

“You are the _only_ one to ever call me a rebel. I kinda like it,” Ed laughed.

“Living in Gotham really changed you, huh?”

“Gotham has a way of doing that,” Ed nodded, “I met a lot of really great people there that helped me open up a little.”

“Dad says your friends are probably all criminals and stuff because those are the only kinds of people who live in Gotham.”

“Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.”

“What's _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It's a Helen Keller quote, “Ed snickered, “My boyfri-- um... Oswald... he said it to me once. It's how you survive in a place like Gotham City.”

“So... you're friends _are_ criminals?”

“Are you asking me to incriminate myself?” Ed raised an eyebrow before the two of them burst out laughing.

“Can't you just take me back with you?” Andrew pleaded, “I hate it here.”

“I wish I could,” Ed frowned, “But I'm really busy.”

“You're _always_ busy.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he frowned, “Just make time.”

* * *

Edward couldn't sleep. The fatigue and throbbing in his head kept him from getting rest. He'd been warned that insomnia might be an unfortunate side-effect of his medication. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it. He rarely slept anyway. But now he was constantly exhausted and never wanted to leave the comfort of his bed. He sighed and made his way downstairs for another glass of water.

He caught movement outside on the back patio from the kitchen window. His dad was sitting outside... with a beer in his hand.

“Hey,” his dad grumbled, “You wanna have a drink?”

“No, I'm good. Thanks,” he approached tentatively, knowing all too well that this could not end well. But better that he should find his dad drunk on the porch and not his mom.

“Couldn't sleep either, huh?”

“No.”

“Come on. Put that water down,” he reached down into the cooler, “Have a beer with your old man.”

Ed sat down, wrapping his robe around him, and stared up at the sky. That was _one_ thing he did miss about Waterbury. You could actually see the stars here.

“Have I ever had a drink with you before?” his dad asked.

“No, sir.”

His dad started laughing, “You took off just as soon as you could. You couldn't have taken off any faster,” he set his jaw, “Were you running away from something?”

“I wasn't running away, Dad,” he lied. Of _course_ he ran away.

“I can feel Andrew drifting away from me,” he looked sad, “I don't even know what to do about it. Everything was fine when he was playing football. I was at every game. Once he started to get into theater, I just didn't know how to talk to him anymore.”

“Well, you can just... ask him about it. That's a good start.”

“Is that what I should have done with you? Asked you more questions?”

“That might have helped. Yeah.”

“Where did I go wrong to end up with boys that were so soft?” he grimaced, “I did what I could to toughen you up, but nothing ever worked.”

“That's because you're idea of toughening me up was to hit me.”

“You make it seem like I beat you up all the dang time.”

“You _did.”_

“And look at you now. You're living in the toughest city in this country and you haven't died yet,” he took a swig of his beer, “I'd say I did my job.”

“Egotistical as ever, I see.”

“Andrew's gonna have to get a lot tougher or he's gonna have a hard time out in the world,” he frowned, “Your grandfather, now _he_ was a tough man. He knew how to shape us with discipline. A good ol' ass whoopin' if that was what was called for. I am who I am now because of him and I turned out all right, didn't I?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No... I know,” he set his beer aside, “Is everything okay with you?”

Ed shrugged.

“Oh, come on. I'm trying here. I'm _really_ trying, Eddie.”

“Is that what you call this?” Ed gestured to the drink in his hand, “Is this you trying?”

“Yeah... well... sometimes we try and we fail,” he frowned, “So, tell me. What's wrong with you?”

“Everything's fine, Dad.”

“How'd you pay for the gifts?” he clenched his jaw.

“I already told you.”

“It's a lot of money, Edward,” he shook his head, “I tried to call the police department a couple of months ago.”

Edward's eyes widened, “I... you can't--”

“--You know, I wondered why you wouldn't give us your work number. But it didn't take me long to figure _that_ out. They said you don't work there no more. That you got in with the wrong crowd and started tampering with evidence.”

“Well... They were probably just confused,” Ed adjusted his glasses, “Gotham is a big city and the precinct is--”

“--Don't _lie_ to me,” his tone dipped down into something genuinely remorseful. It made Ed's stomach churn, “What happened? I've heard all sorts of crazy stories about Gotham. Did you get in over your head? Do you owe someone money or did someone hurt you?”

“Dad!”

“Well, answer my question! You may be a grown man and you may have changed your last name for reasons your mother and I still don't understand, but I am still your father.”

“You are ridiculous. I'm going to bed--”

“--You remember when I was in New Jersey for Frank's funeral? He was the commander of my platoon.”

“Yes,” Ed sighed, wishing he could just escape.

“They thought he killed himself,” his dad laughed at a joke that only he knew the punchline to, “Knowing him, he probably just got too wasted.”

“Like you?”

“Anyway, I went to Jersey... I thought that maybe I could surprise you. Just a short detour across the river into Gotham. I thought maybe we could get some lunch.”

“You were in Gotham?” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I drove around your neighborhood,” he shook his head, “I thought I saw you sitting at the Chinese restaurant in your building with some guy, but I wasn't sure. I drove around the block again, and... Then I was sure it was you. You had your arms around him. I didn't even recognize you. It was like you were a different person.”

Ed tried to focus his gaze on one of the stars in the sky. He wasn't the type to pray but he hoped that they would be answered. That someone would scoop him back out of Waterbury and place him back into Gotham.

He missed the life he'd built there. The family he'd found. So, that next morning, he told his father goodbye one last time. He wouldn't miss him.

He ran his hand through Andrew's hair as he slept. He'd fallen asleep listening to his music. Edward smiled. If he had one regret... it would be that he would leave Andrew behind. He didn't have the courage to tell his family what was happening and his chest ached knowing that he would return to Gotham and vanish from their lives-- permanently this time-- and none of them would ever know why.

Andrew was clever, however. Edward left clues for him in his room. Hidden in the small compartments they'd built for Andrew to hid his tapes. Ed let out a shuddering breath as he placed the small cassette onto the bedside tape. _To Andrew_ was written in green marker on the label. The recording wasn't much, but he hoped that it would serve as a light in the darkness.

“Okay, I'm just gonna drop you here,” his mother pulled up in front of the airport.

“Okay.”

“I don't want you to miss your plane,” she suddenly started crying.

Edward wasn't sure how to respond. He clenched his teeth and fiddled with his glasses.

“You know, You don't have to tell me until you're ready.”

Edward looked up at her.

“And I'll try to be ready when you are.”

It was Edward's turn to cry.

He pulled his luggage from the trunk, told her he loved her, and hugged her one last time.

And Edward never went back.

* * *

His eyes flutter open. The haze clouding his vision was disorienting. Had he been drinking? He can't remember ordering anything but, he was at Mooney's. He didn't even remember going there but he feels like he might get sick. It's not the usual dizziness that he'd grown accustomed to. His stomach didn't even hurt. Even the throbbing in his head and the burning at the back of his throat was gone. He felt a bit like he was floating.

That's when he sees him across the room.

“I told you I'd be waiting for you."

Ed stares at him as the reality sets it. Where he is. Where _they_ are. The green light from a non-existent neon sign illuminating the dance floor.

“I missed you,” Ed wraps his arms around him as they sway to the music.

“I was with you the whole time,” Oswald smiles, “I never left.”


	2. Chapter 2

It took me a while to edit this (and I'm still not fully satisfied with it and might make a few small edits over time, but here we are!)

[The Green Light Room](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SswX9UdPUyYvTGkH0Xamg3cW6Cy4DJXU/view?usp=sharing)

**Author's Note:**

> I've recorded a podfic for this and should have it posted in a few days!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if you cried. I know I cried. A lot. Let me know what you think in the comments <3


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